Huntress
by The Tiger's Flame
Summary: You know me as a huntress. I was a flawless archer, and I had a twin brother who understood me. And all at once, that life was ripped away. My brother and I are the District 6 tributes for the 125th Hunger Games, a Quarter Quell, because we were immortal. Immortality stripped from our names, 24 of us immortals fight to the death this year. My name is Artemis and this is my story...
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer: I don't own _The Hunger Games,_ though I wish I did. The original trilogy rightfully belongs to Suzanne Collins. I only own the plot and the idea of this fanfiction.**

 **Hello, and welcome to _Huntress_! So far, there's not much to say, other than the fact that the tributes of the 125th Hunger Games (Quarter Quell) must be the immortal Greek god and goddess of each district. I hope you like the idea and the story.**

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1.

I, Artemis, goddess of the moon, release a silver arrow and lower my bow, watching triumphantly as it pierces the amber eye of a soaring raven, which flails its wings uselessly before falling to the forest ground.

"Nice shot." I smile, turning my head slightly, as my twin brother Apollo praises me. The two of us are fourteen, with dark hair and brilliant blue eyes. The two of us were just about evenly matched at archery, but with a little extra effort, I was usually the swifter runner.

I brush a strand of long, dark hair from my pale face as I fully face my brother. "Thanks, Apollo," I reply. "You're not so bad yourself." Apollo blinks, running a hand through his curly hair. If I wasn't his brother I might think he was cute ‒ though I'd never admit it. I'm not one for drama and love.

Apollo throws his head back and stares at the crescent moon for a long moment. "We should be getting back," he says. "Night is falling."

Nodding, I step through the tangle of trees and vines at my brother's side, after retrieving my silver arrows. The two of us walk briskly through the shadowy outlines of the forest, and toward the growing light of District 6 in the distance.

Apollo and I stay to the forest path, as the night wind whips around us. The stars gleam softly but brightly, and, for a moment, I wish I was one of them.

"It's a big day tomorrow," I say, and this is one of those rare times when my voice is not coated in its usual confidence.

"You're right." Apollo grasps my hand tighter than before. "We'll find out the new twist tonight, when Snow announces it, won't we?"

"We will," I say, shivering a little. "I'm worried. What if it involves the two of us?"

Apollo gives me a tight smile. "Then we'll make it out together." He stops in his tracks and looks into the depths of my brilliant blue eyes. "Nothing can separate us, Artemis. I promise."

As we make our way back to the gate, we hear our district's central loudspeaker crackle, signifying an incoming message from the Capitol. Probably from President Snow, considering that all of the districts are waiting for his message, which will tell us the requirements for tomorrow's Quarter Quell reaping.

I grip Apollo's hand tighter. "Let's go." He gives me a short nod, and the two of us break into a run, feet rhythmically pounding on the hard ground of District 6. Side by side, Apollo and I run, keeping our ears open as we listen to President Snow speak.

We reach the heart of our district before the president of Panem can say anything that seems of use, and the two of us stand expectantly at the base of the clock tower.

It isn't too crowded, because most of the district is listening through their screens in their respective homes; however, it would take Apollo and me too long to reach our home at the other end of District 6.

"...the Hunger Games are a wonderful opportunity for children to prove their worth to all of the districts," I hear President Snow's voice say. "They also limit unnecessary dissent among each district."

Huh! I snort. More like the Games are a valuable tool to keep the districts from uprising again and making the Capitol weak again.

Apollo nudges me, signaling that what Snow is about to say is what we've been waiting to hear. "The 125th Hunger Games are a Quarter Quell, as you know. And each Quarter Quell is special in that, it has its own requirement added to the tributes."

My brilliant blue eyes meet Apollo's for a second, and mirror the worry in my brother's eyes.

"The Capitol have decided," President Snow states, "that for this Quarter Quell, the tributes will be the immortals, with their immortality stripped from them."

My knees shake and give way, and I fall to the ground. My eyes fill with tears, but I will not let them fall. "No!" I shout, my head lifted to the night sky. "No!"

In a moment, I am staring around, eyes burning, and I fling my bow to the ground. I rip my quiver of silver arrows from my back and shoulder and hurl it to the ground beside the bow. I tear my long, dark hair from its ponytail and allow it to fall free to my knees.

Rage. That's all I feel.

Suddenly, Apollo is at my side, squeezing my shoulders, calling me to stand up. I can see anguish streaked across his face as well, but as soon as I stand, he embraces me. "Artemis, I promise, we will get out of this together."

There are only two immortals per district, so it's obvious that we are the 125th Hunger Games tributes of District 6. And now… only one of us can survive. If it comes down to my brother and me, I don't know what we'll do.

Not that either of us will make it that far.

But I will not kill Apollo, I swear it. And something tells me that Apollo will not kill me. My heart feels as though it might burst at any moment now. Apollo and I. Two fourteen-year-olds. Brother and sister. Innocent beings. We are going to our death.

* * *

I awake early the next morning, before the sun does. My usually pale face is still flushed with anger, and my dark hair is in a tangled mess. My fingers shake as they run down the full length of my dark hair, detangling it instantly, and I shiver.

Today is the day of the reaping. The last morning I will spend with District 6.

Our home is small, with only two rooms. Of course, that's all Apollo and I need to sustain the two of us. The door is simply a hole in the wall that leads outside; we don't worry about thieves, for we hardly have anything of value, anyway.

I slowly make my way over to the door and stare out into the silent district. Everyone is asleep; it must be about three in the morning. But I can't sleep. My body is wracked with fear and anxiety for today.

I can see a faint glow, where the sun is beginning to rise. As it does, my hopes sink. Still, I square my shoulders and stare out into the distance. "I will not be afraid," I tell myself, and for once since the previous evening, my voice comes out steady and confident.

There is a rustle, and I feel the presence of someone beside me. I don't need to turn my head to know that it is Apollo. He lays a hand gently on my shoulder. "Artemis," he says, and I turn to look into his eyes, "we will make it out of the Games. That's a promise."

I lean into my brother, and he embraces me. I bury my head in his shoulder, and at the sound of a mild sniff, I look up to see that Apollo, the calm figure I had grown up with, has let his tears fall.

"Whatever happens, Artemis," he tells me, and I can tell by his voice that he is struggling to keep his expression steady, "I'll always be there."

"So will I, Apollo," I reply softly, wishing I could believe it. Because only one of us can win the Hunger Games Quarter Quell. I hope with all my heart that it's either me or Apollo. But that's never going to happen.

Apollo flashes me a weak smile. "The future is clouded," he tells me, as I step back, and I recall once more than he is the god of prophecy. "I cannot tell what will happen to us."

Maybe that's a good sign, maybe it's not.

Suddenly, I feel like crying. I never do; that's not what's expected of the goddess of hunting. But the pressure suddenly overwhelms me, and my knees feel faint. I shut my eyes for a long moment, letting peace and blackness engulf me for a fleeting second. I'm exhausted; my vision is slightly blurry, and my limbs feel weak.

Apollo must have noticed this, too. "Artemis, we should rest. We… uh… have a long day ahead of us." His bright blue eyes are darker, now, and more serious. I can see pure concern shining in their depths.

"I'm not tired," I protest, but I suddenly feel as though my legs can barely hold me up any longer. Under the stern look given to me by Apollo, I sigh. "All right, I'm coming."

There's nothing left in this world, I realize. Nothing I can look to for comfort ‒ except Apollo. There is nothing in what is left of my life that really reaches out to me, except my brother.

And death, peaceful, blissful death, awaits the two of us.

After long minutes of watching my sleeping brother's chest rise and fall rhythmically, sleep crashes over me like a black wave. My last thought is that I wish I weren't immortal, so that death might greet me before the reaping.

* * *

To have my immortality stripped from me ‒ how does it feel? How does the Capitol do it? What does it mean for Apollo and me? These questions run through my mind as I stand by the door, waiting for our district escort and the designated two victors for this year's tributes to arrive.

"It's hard, isn't it?" Apollo's voice sounds behind me. "Everything you've ever known, taken from you in one night. It's hard to think I'll never see this place again."

"Neither will I," I say. My voice takes on an edge of determination. "But you will, I'll make sure of that, Apollo. You're going to win this."

Apollo scoffs. "It's probably going to be one of the Careers, this year. They usually win."

"Tell me something I don't already know," I say. I frown. "What sort of terrain is the arena going to be this year? Or, at least, what do you think it'll be?"

"I'm not quite sure," Apollo replies. "Not a desert; they did that last year." He pauses, then stares pointedly at the clothes I wear. A simple black hunting jacket, over black pants. My hair is in a long, simple braid, and black boots cover my feet. My figure bears my bow and quiver of arrows, as well. "You look… well… why all the black?"

"Does it matter what I wear?" I ask. "I'm going to die anyways. Black… in anticipation of the death in the future." I frown. "You didn't have to wear something so bright." In contrast to me, Apollo was wearing a white shirt and darker pants. I nudge him playfully. "So formal."

"Like you said, it doesn't matter," Apollo counters, matter-of-factly.

The crowd of District 6, one of the smallest districts, has already gathered near the podium. I turn, moments later, to see a flash of red hair as three shapes emerge.

"Look, it's Mara Lindell," Apollo announces, making me grimace. Great. One step closer to my death. I would recognize Mara's bright red hair and green eyes anywhere. She's the District 6 escort, and has been for the past twenty years, probably.

Mara beckons sweetly to the two others beside her ‒ two of the seven former victors. She stands to the center of the podium and waves at all of District 6, a cheerful smile etched onto her face.

"Welcome, welcome," Mara purrs, adjusting the microphone so that the crowd can hear and quiet down to her voice, "to the 125th annual Hunger Games." She nods to a nearby Peacekeeper, in the usual white uniform, and moments later, on the large screen, the general video of the Hunger Games begins playing. This is shown every year; Apollo and I have never bothered to watch it more than twice.

Apollo and I step closer to the crowd, only to find that Mara has stepped down from the podium for a minute or so. She brushes carefully past the villagers, smiling the entire way.

"I need the immortals in this district," she says softly, so that only the people closest to her can hear. As she moves about, she repeats herself, again and again. I duck my head as she nears us.

Apollo elbows me, then jerks his head toward Mara. I glare at him, but Mara is already stepping toward us. She flashes us a cheerful, polished smile, reeking of the Capitol.

"You must be Apollo and Artemis, then," she says, "the immortals of District 6. Am I right?" Apollo nods, while I remain silent. She smiles sweetly, again. "You must be honored to be two of the tributes of this year's Quarter Quell."

I grimace. "Yeah," I mutter, gritting my teeth. "Honored."

Mara tosses her red curls over her shoulder. "It should be an honor. You get to prove your extraordinary worth, Miss Artemis." Clearly, Mara is not one who takes kindly to sarcasm and dry humor. Apollo flashes me a quick glare, and Mara continues. "If you two would just step this way."

Do we have a choice? Reluctantly, I follow Mara, as the crowd continues to watch the screen. Apollo nudges me sharply. "Let's not make an enemy of our escort, Artemis," he drawls pointedly, and I roll my eyes as I follow him.

"Now, Apollo, please stand over there." Mara gestures toward a spot at the edge of the podium, a few paces behind the mentors. "And Artemis, please stand over there." She shows me to a spot opposite from Apollo. She turns to face both of us. "I want you two smiling when you are reaped. Understood?"

I don't reply, and, surprisingly, neither does Apollo. Mara doesn't really seem to care, and I grit my teeth in anger. This is unfair, simply unfair. _How can the Capitol do this to the immortals?_

I feel like crying, once more, but I know I can't. I am Artemis, the huntress, and I will be strong.

My face falls, my eyes darkening, as the Capitol screen turns blank, signaling the end of the video projected to the District 6 crowd. There are a few murmurs as the people of District 6, gathered below the podium, slowly turn to look up at Mara.

"Happy Hunger Games, everyone!" Mara says, by way of greeting. "And…" she says, staring uncomfortably at Apollo and me, "may the odds ever be in your favor."

I wish, I think.

"For the 125th annual Hunger Games, the Quarter Quell, our revered President Snow has chosen to have only the immortals in the districts reaped, their immortality removed, and they will fight to the death in this year's arena," Mara says. "So let's get on with the reaping. As usual, ladies first."

My heart seems to speed up at this point, my breath coming in gasps. My eyes are wide, and I clutch my bow tightly. I look over at Apollo, who smiles shakily, and turns away.

There is only one slip of paper in the usually-full glass bowl. I shudder as Mara's delicate fingers gently reach inside and pull out the folded paper.

"Artemis, goddess of the hunt and the moon," Mara calls, and a few whispers spread through the crowd below. This is it, I think, forcing a smile for the sake of the district. I know it must seem forced, but it's the best I can do right now. Slowly, slowly, I walk toward Mara, who smiles brightly at me and positions me to face District 6.

Mara doesn't call for volunteers, as President Snow was specific to mention that only immortals should be reaped. "And now, the boy tribute." Her fingers reach for the paper in the other glass bowl, and she reads out, "Apollo, god of truth and prophecy."

Apollo steps forward to Mara's side, and though his stride appears confident, his expression tells me otherwise. Mara smiles at him. "Shake hands," she murmurs to us, and we do. Together, we raise our hands, still linked, as we face District 6. "And there you have it, District 6. Your tributes for the 125th annual Hunger Games!" Mara announces.

And for once, I wish I actually have the confidence which I try to feign in front of the District.

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 **Please review!**


	2. Chapter 2

**Hello, again, everyone! I'm back with another chapter of _Huntress!_ I really hope you enjoy!**

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2.

Apollo and I wait in the same room for any final visitors. We have three minutes to say our good-byes to the people closest to us in District 6, before we board the Capitol train and leave the district… and probably never return to it again.

As soon as the Peacekeeper leaves the room, Apollo and I turn to face each other in silence. Apollo is the first to speak. "I guess our fate is sealed, then." He fiddles aimlessly with his bow, and I sigh, softly.

"Yeah, I guess so," I reply, my usually-bright blue eyes dark with defeat and hopelessness. "Both of us can't win together. It's against the rules." My eyes flash with anger. "The truth is, Apollo, all the immortals are out there to _kill_. They're all more dangerous than the regular tributes, even without their immortality. We are not going to win the Games."

Apollo opens his mouth to speak, then decides against it. Instead, he puts his hand on my shoulder. "We'll be okay, Artemis," he tells me, softly, and for a moment, a fleeting moment, I believe him.

The door opens, and a girl enters. She looks about ten, with a pale face and wide, innocent green eyes, but I don't recognize her, and I doubt Apollo does, either. She stops just in front of me and looks up, blinking. "My name is Lillian," she tells me, her voice soft.

Apollo shoots me a questioning glance, but I ignore it, and I somehow know that this girl ‒ Lillian ‒ is harmless, and only wants the best for us. She is no more than a child, after all.

"I saw you at the reaping, today," Lillian says, her eyes wide as stares at me, brushing back a strand of chestnut hair over her shoulder.

"Oh." _What do you say to that?_

"You were very brave," she adds, a small smile on her face. "I hope you win, Artemis." She turns to my brother. "Or you, Apollo. Not because you're from District 6, but because you two are so brave and determined and kind."

I stare at Lillian, wide-eyed. "Thank you," I say, but my voice is raspy.

"Here." Lillian drops something into my hand. I bring it up and stare closely at it. It is a hairpin, a beautiful golden one at that. "Wherever you are, I will support you."

 _So innocent, so young._ "Thank you," I whisper again.

Lillian smiles softly. "Please win."

Apollo stares oddly at me, and his expression changes to one of annoyance and slight confusion. "Well?" he asks, his voice too low for Lillian to hear. "Who is that, and why should we-"

I cut him off before he can finish. "I don't know her, but I know she only means well for us."

Moments later, Peacekeepers charge into the room, two of them. "Time's up," one mutters, and they seize Lillian by her arms and drag her, on her knees. The young girl is protesting, trying to struggle free, but one of the Peacekeepers strikes her hard with his baton, into her spine.

I am frozen in horror as Lillian falls to the ground. "I must tell them one more thing!" she is coughing, but the Peacekeepers refuse to listen. Blood spills onto the ground as the baton connects with her head, and the child cries out in pain as a Peacekeeper holds her firmly by the hair and drags her across the hard ground.

"Stop!" I shout, coming to my senses. Apollo tries to hold me back, but I pull away from him and stand between the Peacekeepers and Lillian. "This is a child. She wants to tell me one thing, so let her."

Lillian lifts her head and whispers, "I'll be watching you. Don't disappoint me, please. District 6 might have another winner this year."

The Peacekeeper who had spoken earlier lets out a dry cough. "She's done." He shoves her to her feet and pushes her out of the room, closing the door behind.

 _District 6 might have another winner this year._ Was Lillian serious? She was only a child, probably ten, but her words somehow gave me a small spark of hope.

Moments after the Peacekeepers leave with Lillian, Mara enters the room through a door I hadn't noticed earlier. She frowns at Apollo and me, then lets out a huff. "We're all waiting on you two! Come on, we're leaving." With that, the District 6 escort flounces out of the room, leaving the door open behind her, signaling for us to follow.

* * *

I sit across from Apollo in our room in the Capitol tribute train, dread rising in my heart with every inch we travel. Mara has just gone to retrieve our two mentors, leaving Apollo and me alone.

"Well, we're doomed, aren't we?" I ask dryly, my gaze flickering every now and then to my bow, which was on the other table, the smaller one, in the corner.

Apollo raises his eyebrows. "No need to be so pessimistic. We have a chance of winning."

"A very fat chance, isn't that right?" I scoff, resisting the urge to roll my eyes. "Apollo, we're both going to _die_. The second we were reaped ‒ or rather, the second President Snow made that announcement yesterday evening ‒ we were practically sentenced to death."

My twin brother remains silent for a few moments, then changes the subject. "Well, who are our competitors, then? The other immortals in the districts?"

I shrug. I knew Athena and I had heard of Aphrodite, and Apollo knew Eros, but that was about all. I raise my eyebrows at Apollo. "Why don't we watch the reapings, then?" I suggest, gesturing to the television screen on the opposite wall.

Apollo stands and picks up the controller, and, after fumbling with it for a few moments, manages to turn the black screen into a dark blue. I try to hide my amusement, but Apollo notices and turns slightly red. "It's not funny," he retorts, but his lips curve into a smile.

Moments later, Apollo manages to switch the screen to the reapings. Taking a few steps back, he sits down again, across from me, and places the controller on the table, and both of us watch the screen closely.

As usual, District 1 appears first, as it is the first district and closest to the Capitol. The dark-haired district escort seems to be more confident and more supportive of the new tributes than Mara.

The people standing in a crowd hardly surprised me, with their expensive clothing and bright appearances. I watch as the district escort nearly knocks over the girls' glass bowl, which, unsurprisingly, has only one slip of paper inside. "Aphrodite, goddess of love and beauty," the District 1 escort reads out, turning to her right.

There. I had heard that Aphrodite is the goddess of beauty, and that she is the most beautiful girl in all of Panem, but this is not quite what I am expecting. The girl who stepped onto stage seems to dazzle with all the light of the sun on her pale skin. A deep blue dress to the floor seems to make her dark blue eyes brighter, and her features shine as she smiles at the crowd.

I resist the urge to snort. This is a Career? Aphrodite doesn't even have a weapon, and I doubt that she knows how to handle one. _She must be all looks and no fight. That'll get her a lot of support from the crowd and the Capitol._

Aphrodite gives a small wave to District 1. "Thank you," she says, her voice mellow and smooth. "It is an honor to be participating in this Quarter Quell."

Wow. Apparently, in the Career districts, the tributes say a sentence or two about how great it is to be a tribute in the Hunger Games. It is just great, isn't it? Fighting to the death, with such a small chance of survival is fun for the Careers.

"And now, the male tribute of District 1 is…" the district escort reads from a slip of paper, "Poseidon, god of water." The District 1 boy stepped to the center from the left side, then slammed the massive golden trident in his hand to the podium. If Aphrodite hadn't gone first, I might say he would have taken the District 1 crowd's entire attention immediately.

He is handsome ‒ not that I care ‒ with his white suit, and will also gain a lot of support from the crowd. Poseidon also looks fierce and determined, and he flips a lock of golden hair away from his face.

If I did not know he is going into the Hunger Games, I might think he was purposely acting attractive ‒ a typical District 1 tribute, the Capitol's lapdog. Well, that trident could be deadly. Poseidon seemed cocky; there was an air of arrogance around him. That almost-mocking arrogance probably came with being a tribute from District 1.

"It's a pleasure," Poseidon states, grinning as he addresses the crowd.

The two tributes from District 1 turn towards each other, shake hands, and turn to proudly face the audience, the smiles never faltering, their eyes constantly shining.

The screen goes black, and moments later, brightens again, showing a slightly different setting. Instead of the golden buildings of District 1, there are silver and iron structures all around. The people gathered at the base of the podium are different, as well. These people look fiercer, slightly less pampered, and more of fighters than those of District 1.

This is District 2, the second of three Career districts. In all of my lifetime, when I have been forced to watch the annual Hunger Games beside Apollo, I have never seen a year in which the tributes of District 2 have not posed a serious threat.

District 2's escort is wearing a black suit, and her expression is stern but determined. _She might have been in the Hunger Games once, before, too_ , I think, staring closely at her hard, fierce face.

"Happy Hunger Games!" the escort calls, silencing the murmuring crowd at the base of the podium. "As you know, this year, we will be reaping the immortals of each district to go into the 125th Hunger Games." She pauses for the effect, and I merely roll my eyes.

That is when I notice the tributes at the edge of the podium, but they are too far away for me to see them clearly. "Let me start with the boys, this year," the District 2 escort announces, smiling, "since it's not every day that we have a Quarter Quell."

I watch as she walks, with feline grace, to the boys' bowl, and pulls out the only slip of paper inside. "Ares!" she calls, "god of war."

The male tribute comes forward, and I can see his face closely. His eyes hold triumph and pride, his face cold as steel. I notice that his body is covered in silver armor, and I resist a laugh. Well, he is the god of war, I tell myself. His dark eyes are filled with determination as he stares at the crowd. "Thank you. I will do my best to make District 2 have another victor this year."

"Lovely," the escort says. "Let's move on to the female tribute." I lean slightly forward to hear the tribute girl's name. "Lyssa, goddess of rage and fury."

The girl who steps forward wears an expression that mirrors that of Ares. I resist the sudden urge to flinch at the uncontrollable rage and hate in her dark leaf-green eyes, which she hasn't bothered to conceal as she stares about her.

For a moment, her eyes seem to lock with mine, through the screen. _Anyone in my path will be destroyed,_ her expression seems to say, and her stares down at the people of District 2. When she smiles, it is a cold smile, one full of venom. "It is a pleasure," she purrs sweetly, pushing locks of jet-black hair over her shoulder.

Her icy smile is lethal, sending shivers down my spine. Right away, I can tell that Lyssa will be a powerful and dangerous enemy ‒ not just for Apollo and me, but for every tribute this year.

Lyssa and Ares turn to face each other, but before they can properly acknowledge each other as District partners for the Quarter Quell, the scene changes. The buildings now are taller and thinner, and there are cords and pipes almost everywhere. The people at the base of the podium look significantly poorer than those of Districts 1 and 2, but not as much as District 6.

The introduction of the escort must have been cut out of the clip, for the escort simply calls, "Astraea, goddess of justice." A small girl steps forward, her thick, dark hair flowing slightly past her shoulders, and her gray eyes wide. She doesn't say anything as she stands beside the escort.

"Dionysus, god of wine." A large, slightly muscular boy steps to Astraea's side, and he clenches his jaw. He shoots the crowd a winning smile, then runs a hand through his light brown curls. His amber eyes betray nothing as he shakes hands with Astraea.

District 4's setting is nothing like what I've ever seen before. The area seems completely urban… maybe too much… and most people are pale-skinned with blue-green eyes.

"Welcome. It is a pleasure to reap for the 125th annual Hunger Games." The escort pushes one of his blonde locks of hair behind his ear and continues. "First up… your female tribute is Nemesis, goddess of vengeance."

I shudder. Other than Aphrodite, the Careers seem to make a powerful and deadly alliance this year.

Her dark hair, almost red, unique in the district, gleams in the sunlight as she slowly steps forward. "Thank you," she says, with a soft yet harsh smile. "I hope to bring pride to the district."

At the call of "Hades, god of the Underworld", a tall boy with long, silver-blonde hair free down his back steps forward, uncertainty in his walk.

He seems quiet, and when prompted by the escort, he only speaks a few words. "I'll do my best." Suddenly, though Hades is from District 4, I feel a pang of pity for him. He is in the same situation as I, and he will be my enemy soon enough, but somehow, he makes me want to simply… refuse to enter the Games. Somehow, he seems as though he really has lost everything.

The door opens suddenly, and I sit straight to see that Mara has returned with our two mentors for this year. She smiles sweetly at us, and, with a sigh, Apollo pauses the clip that is playing. "This is Ember," she says, gesturing to the blonde male mentor, "and this‒" she motions to the female mentor "‒is Scarlett."

"Artemis and Apollo." Scarlett greets us with a smile.

Ember sprawls himself out on one of the couches. "What're you two watching? Oh, it's the reapings. Keep going; I want to see this year's tributes, too."

District 5, a smoky, urban area with factories all around, produces its two tributes without anything out of the ordinary. "Eirene, goddess of peace," the escort had called, I realize, and this is one of the goddesses whom I had never heard of.

I find nothing spectacular about the girl who stepped forward, and I move on, listening. "Hephaestus, god of fire and blacksmiths."

This tribute was larger than most others, and definitely one of the giants. His slightly-tanned face and white-blonde hair were streaked with soot as he stood beside Eirene, his shape seeming enormous beside the smaller girl.

Next is District 6. That's the district which is ‒ or used to be ‒ the home of Apollo and me. Home. I let out an inward sigh. As if I'll ever see home again.

The reapings in District 7 are not very interesting. At the call of the district escort, Athena, one of the few goddesses I had heard of, steps forward, with her back-length light brown hair and green eyes. She is the goddess of wisdom, definitely not suited for a fight to the death.

The other District 7 tribute is Eros, the god of love. I don't recognize him, but Apollo does, as I can tell from the slight smile of recognition on his face.

When the screen changes to District 8, another district escort calls out, "Nyx, goddess of night." I stare as a light-skinned girl with dark, dark hair and almost black eyes comes forward. Though she is from District 8, she may pose a threat. There's something about her that… that I just don't like.

"Hermes, god of borders and flight." A small boy shuffles forward, looking extremely reluctant and devastated as he stares out at the crowd. The escort murmurs something to the new tributes, and they turn to each other and shake hands before facing the people of District 8 again.

The next district is District 9, district of grain. The tributes in the outlying districts are usually very forgettable. I know that I probably won't remember a tall, slender girl with hazel eyes, who bears the name "Demeter, goddess of harvest", or a slightly short, dark-haired boy with the name "Asclepius, god of medicine."

District 10. "Iris, goddess of the rainbow" is what the district escort calls, such that a smaller girl with straight, dark hair to the top of her neck comes forward.

I snort. That doesn't show any talent. Goddess of the rainbow. I doubt that Iris could make it too far in the Hunger Games this year. Especially not with some of the other tributes out there.

"Paeon, god of healing," the District 10 escort announces cheerfully, pushing a strand of hair back as the male tribute steps forward. She smiles and congratulates him, before telling Paeon and Iris to shake hands and smile at the crowd.

The screen changes again, and District 11 appears. The girl who is reaped bears the name "Persephone, goddess of spring and flowers" and seems small… too small to win this year.

I sigh. It just isn't fair that a young child to go to her death. When I look up again, the escort has already called "Deimus, god of panic, " and a boy is standing beside Persephone.

The final district, District 12, is shocking to see. The people there are completely ragged and weary, and the buildings around the area are nearly crumbling. I feel a pang of pity for these people… is this what their everyday lives are like?

Before I can think any more about it, the district escort, a woman with large, fluffy hair piled on top of her head, announces, "Hestia, goddess of the hearth." The girl who steps forward is probably one of the oldest. There are noticeable shadows under her eyes, and her dark red hair is wild and tangled.

"Phobos, god of fear." Phobos is tall, but not too tall; muscular, but not too muscular; quick, but not too quick… in short, he was the ordinary boy.

As soon as the two District 12 tributes shake hands firmly, the screen turns black, and the Panem national anthem plays again, just as it did in the beginning.

"Well," Ember asks, sitting straight as the clip ends, "what do you think?"

"Which tributes, do you think, pose a threat?" Scarlett chimes in.

"Both tributes from District 2," I say, "especially the girl, Lyssa. She seems as though she is brutal and bloodthirsty… and that nothing can stop her from winning."

"I think Poseidon poses a threat as well," Apollo adds, surprising me. "The boy from District 1."

"What? That trident boy?" I ask incredulously. To me, he looked like a flirt ‒ nothing more. But, to come to think about it, that trident he was holding could be dangerous. "Well, maybe. I also think that the girl from District 8 ‒ Nyx, I think ‒ is dangerous."

"She does look as though she's hiding something," Apollo agrees.

When neither of us says any more, Scarlett raises her eyebrows at us. "Good. Now. Okay, which tributes do you think will die earlier than most?"

"I will," I tell her drily. Mara frowns at me; I forgot she was standing there. "Okay, okay. That Iris girl. She seems too small. So does Persephone, but I think Persephone has what it takes to survive about the first day."

"What do you think, Apollo?" Ember asks.

"I think that Hermes isn't going to survive very long, either," my brother says, and I nod. That seems about right. Hermes was the small boy from District 8.

"Those are just about what I was thinking," Ember replies, and Scarlett nods approvingly. "Now," he adds, "as your mentors, we are supposed to train you and aid you before the Games in any way that will help you learn to survive. But we need a bit of time to think first. Until then, you can just talk between yourselves."

"We're nearly there, anyways," Scarlett adds. "Once we're there, we have to take you immediately to your prep team and stylist." And with that, she, Ember, and Mara leave the room.

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 **Replying to reviews:**

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 ** _Question of the Day:_ Who is your favorite character so far?**

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